


we knew love was here to stay

by hyruling



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fake Marriage, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Stanley Uris Lives, bill and bev are a thing for like a MINUTE but it does not represent me. benbev 4 lyfe, but its not explained or anything just assume its the turtle, idk thats not a tag but it is now, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: “Tell you what. If neither of us are married when we’re forty, I’ll marry you.”Eddie stiffens. Richie is suddenly very aware of his heartbeat, thrumming hard and fast in his throat. He still has a hand on Eddie’s knee, and hopes he doesn’t notice how sweaty it is.“What?” Eddie croaks, eyes wide.Richie cracks a smile, too wide to be believable, and promptly overcorrects. “I mean, if it comes to that we’ll both be such pathetic lonely bastards at that point, we might as well? You know, for like... taxes and shit?”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 48
Kudos: 563





	we knew love was here to stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eurythmix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurythmix/gifts).



> my wips watching me post this: [pathetic.jpg](https://i.chzbgr.com/original/9380406272/hCCAE9858/pathetic)
> 
> gene said, “hey so where’s the fic where 13 yr old richie jokingly (haha….unless,) suggests that if he and eddie are both single by 40 they should get married” and i said, “haha, yeah that’s interesting” and woke up to 5k of this sitting in my google docs. 
> 
> it also happens to be your bday, so happy birthday gene ur a legend and i love u!!! <3333 hope u like this self indulgent mess
> 
> title from september by earth, wind, & fire. you’ll see why

**Summer 1991**

Eddie gags, making faces at Bill’s back as he presses his forehead to Bev’s on the other side of the fence. Richie grins at him and draws from the pile of cards they have spread out on the grass. 

“They’re so gross,” Eddie says, face screwed up in disgust. 

“Don’t be jealous, Eds, it’s unbecoming.”  
  
“ _Ew_. I am _not_ jealous. They’ve done nothing but swap spit and fucking, like, _cuddle_ the whole time Bev’s been home, it’s disgusting.”  
  
He’s not wrong. Bev turned up at the beginning of June to visit, hair to her shoulders and even more beautiful than last summer, and she and Bill had been attached at the hip ever since. It hadn’t really affected their group dynamic, apart from making Ben a little surlier than usual, but right now they’re being extra disgusting about it. The four of them had shown up to the quarry early, and instead of playing cards while they waited for the others as planned, they decided to go makeout less than ten feet from where Richie and Eddie are half heartedly playing rummy. 

“Swapping spit can be fun, Spaghetti,” Richie says, feeling his face heat up. “For example, when your mom and I—” 

“Beep beep asshole,” Eddie snaps without looking away from Bill and Bev. “You’ve never kissed anyone and you know it.”  
  
The pink of Richie’s cheeks darkens until it’s all splotchy and red. “Yes I _have_ , that girl from camp—”  
  
“—was a fucking lie. Stan told me.”  
  
“Stan is a fucking liar.”  
  
Eddie looks away from the lovebirds and gives Richie a withering look. “Richie, please. You tried to tell us the clitoris was inside the vagina, you’re full of shit.” 

Richie splutters, not least from hearing such vulgar words from Eddie’s mouth. “I never— Edward Kaspbrak! You— how do you—”

Eddie shrugs. “Stan’s dad gave him The Talk this summer. He had a diagram.” 

“Goddammit,” Richie mutters, blushing so hard he thinks he might pass out. “Fucking Urises out to get me.” 

Eddie smirks, and lays down his last suit, smoothly discarding and folding his arms. Richie had forgotten they were playing. 

Bev giggles, drawing Eddie’s gaze back to the other two and grimaces again. Richie pounces on the opportunity to deflect attention off of himself. 

“You think they’re gonna get married?” Richie asks. 

Eddie winces. “God, I hope not. Ben might throw himself off a bridge if that happens.” 

“I mean, we are all about to throw ourselves off a literal cliff, Eds,” Richie reminds him.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says vaguely, watching Bill brush a curl behind Bev’s ear. Eddie sighs, and Richie thinks he may have had a sudden change of heart until he says, “I’m never gonna get married.” 

Richie laughs at the way his nose is wrinkled, freckles all smushed together. “ _Never_? That’s bleak Spaghetti.” 

“No it’s not. It’s _smart_ ,” Eddie insists, looking back at Richie and tapping his finger to his temple. “Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. Especially if you get married too young.” 

“Bullshit,” Richie says. “You’re making that up.”  
  
“No I’m not! It’s a fucking fact, look it up.” 

Richie releases a breath with a loud ‘whoosh’. “Still. That’s _sad_ , Eddie.” 

Eddie shrugs, and busies himself with shuffling the deck. He avoids Richie’s eyes when he says, “It doesn’t matter, I can’t— I don’t think I’ll find anyone I’ll wanna marry anyway.” 

“Aw, Eds, that’s not true,” Richie says, reaching out to squeeze Eddie’s bare knee. “We’re only fifteen dude, plenty of time to find a lucky lady to wet your whistle.”  
  
The words taste like acid in his mouth but he says them anyway, and tries not to enjoy the look of disgust on Eddie’s face. 

“Gross, dude.” 

“Tell you what. If neither of us are married when we’re forty, I’ll marry you.” 

Eddie stiffens. Richie is suddenly very aware of his heartbeat, thrumming hard and fast in his throat. He still has a hand on Eddie’s knee, and hopes he doesn’t notice how sweaty it is. 

“What?” Eddie croaks, eyes wide. 

Richie cracks a smile, too wide to be believable, and promptly overcorrects. “I mean, if it comes to that we’ll both be such pathetic lonely bastards at that point, we might as well? You know, for like... taxes and shit?” 

“Taxes…” Eddie mutters, trailing off expectantly. 

“Yeah. My mom said married people have better taxes, or something,” Richie says seriously. Eddie continues to just stare at him, and Richie’s blush spreads all the way to his fucking toes. 

“Eddie—”  
  
“Okay,” Eddie says. 

Richie blinks. “Okay?”

“Yeah, _okay._ As in, it’s a deal, dipshit.” 

Richie grins so hard it hurts. “Oh Eddie Spaghetti, you’ve just made me the happiest man on earth,” he croons. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks pink. “Beep _beep_ dumbass.” 

“Anything for you, Eddie my love,” Richie says, giggling when Eddie shoves him so hard he falls back into the grass. He rolls over onto his side and spits in his hand before offering it to Eddie. “Spit shake on it?” 

“Fuck you, Richie,” Eddie says, squealing when Richie tries to wipe his hand on Eddie’s leg. 

They end up wrestling on the grass, separating only when Stan shows up and pulls Richie off of Eddie by the collar. 

Later, when they’re drying off in the grass, Richie rips a thread from his shirt and ties it around Eddie’s ring finger and hopes he can’t feel the way his hands are shaking. Eddie wears it for weeks until it falls off, and Richie spends the rest of the summer trying not to spend every waking moment thinking about it. 

Neither of them mention it again for twenty-five years. 

**Summer 2016**

Richie has approximately four coherent thoughts when confronted with seeing Eddie Kaspbrak again: 

_1\. Fuck me, he’s still hot._

2\. _How can he look so awkward and so hot at the same time?_

3\. _Holy shit, I’m in love with him._

4\. _Holy shit, that’s a wedding ring._

His next thought was less of a thought and more of an unconscious instinct. He gravitates to the alcohol and drinks like it’s his fucking job, but it doesn’t take the edge off the way he needs it to. His eyes are drawn to the ring on Eddie’s finger in a way that’s got to be too fucking obvious based on the way Bev keeps glancing at him. 

“So wait Eddie you got _married_?” he hears himself ask after downing his sixth shot of the night. 

“Yeah? Why’s that so fucking funny dickwad?” Eddie responds fiercely. 

_‘Cause we had a deal, asshole._

“What to like a woman?” 

“Fuck you, bro.” 

Richie gets through the rest of the dinner on autopilot. At least until the fortune cookies start attacking him, and the name Pennywise triggers a terror so deep he nearly vomits all over the fucking table.

Later, after almost bolting with Eddie tucked under his arm and being guilted into staying, he follows Eddie into his room back at the townhouse, still acting on some kind of acute impulse, hardly conscious that he’s doing so until Eddie turns to face him. 

“You’re really staying?” Eddie asks him, sitting heavily down on the bed. Richie closes the door and leans against it, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“Looks that way. Fucking Ben and his puppy eyes.” 

“Yeah. Fuck.” 

There’s an awkward silence. The longer it goes on, the more likely it is that Eddie’s gonna ask what the fuck he’s doing in his room, so Richie does what he does best to fill it. 

“So. What excuse did you give the wife for all... this?” 

Eddie looks up shrewdly in time to see Richie gesturing vaguely, and Richie wishes he could melt into the door. 

“I— she thinks it’s a business trip.” 

“Right. Not enough risks being analyzed in Maine, makes sense.”  
  
“Fuck off, Richie, I—” 

Richie holds his hands up. “Sorry, I know, sorry. I’ll go.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Richie stops dead, hand frozen where it was reaching for the doorknob. Eddie is standing, closer than he was a minute ago, reaching for Richie. 

“Don’t. Stay. Just… a little longer. I’m this close to losing it, man.”  
  
Richie swallows and nods, because he's pathetic and can’t deny Eddie anything. Eddie sits back down and Richie follows, pressed together shoulder to calf. 

“What do you think is gonna happen tomorrow?” Eddie asks quietly. 

“Something shitty,” Richie answers. “Literally, probably. Bet Mike drags us down into the sewers again.”  
  
Eddie’s hand shoots out and grabs Richie’s out of nowhere. His palm is warm and soft, ring a cold metallic intrusion against Richie’s fingers. 

“I hate the fucking sewers,” Eddie says, eyes squeezed shut when Richie chances a look. 

“Think that’s a pretty universal feelings, Eds,” Richie says tightly. 

Eddie opens his eyes, and seems to realize in that moment that he’s holding Richie’s hand. It must be the alcohol, because he doesn’t pull away. He looks down at it for a long time, and slowly, slowly, his thumb brushes over Richie’s, and Richie has the world’s most silent breakdown about it. Richie turns his hand over and intertwines their fingers, thumbing over Eddie’s ring pointedly. 

“Sorry I couldn’t hold up on our deal,” Eddie says softly, and it’s like a punch to the gut knowing that he fucking remembers. But Eddie sounds miserable and sincere enough that Richie squeezes his hand and decides to be a fucking adult about it and deflect. For Eddie’s sake as much as his own. 

“Yeah… who knew it’d actually be legal one day when we made that pact?” Richie says with a laugh. Eddie blinks like he hadn’t even considered that until this moment. 

“I broke it first anyway. I tied the knot with your mom the _minute_ I turned eighteen—”  
  
Richie is shoved onto the floor for that, cackling as he goes. Eddie kicks him until he crawls out of his room, still laughing to fill the hole that’s rapidly expanding in his chest. 

* * *

“Richie, I gotta tell you something.”

Richie’s heart squeezes painfully, hand tightening on Eddie’s shoulder. “What, what’s up buddy?” 

A beat, then, “I fucked your mother.” 

Richie doesn’t have time to deal with that. They’re running for their lives, and Eddie’s bleeding too much too fast, and he takes his eyes off him for one fucking second to crush the clown's heart in his fucking hand and Eddie passes out on him. 

“No, Eddie, wake up, come on,” Richie pleads, slapping Eddie’s good cheek. Eddie doesn’t wake up, but he lolls his head around, and Richie can feel tiny puffs of air against his fingers. 

“We gotta g-go Rich,” Bill says, ducking to avoid some falling debris. Richie whips around to yell at him, but Bill is leaning over Eddie’s other side. Ever their fearless leader, his voice is sure when he starts instructing the others. “Grab his arm Richie, careful. Ben, c-can you carry him?”  
  
“Yeah, just help me get him up.” 

Richie and Bill work fast, pulling Eddie up and situating him on Ben’s shoulder fireman style. Ben’s shirt is drenched in blood almost instantly, and Richie’s stomach turns. 

“It’s okay, Rich, come on,” Stan assures him, pressing a gentle hand to his back to urge him forward.

Bev takes Richie’s hand and he follows her blindly, using her brilliant hair as his north star, weaving and climbing and ducking when she does. His eyes flicker over to Ben and Eddie every few feet, and he wonders if Ben can feel if Eddie is still breathing. Stan is a steady presence behind him, urging him on with quiet words of encouragement to keep him moving.

The sunlight is blinding when they make it out. Richie barely notices. He only has eyes for Eddie, who is being lowered gently to the ground by Mike and Ben. Richie is at their side and on his knees in an instant. 

“Eddie, Eds, hey, we’re out.” Eddie is cradled in his lap, and his chest is just barely moving with his shallow breaths. “We’re out, Eddie, we’re gonna get you help, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open; it’s the most beautiful thing Richie’s ever seen. 

“Rich,” he slurs. He tries to move his hand, but it only lifts an inch before falling back to the ground. Eddie winces. 

“Don’t move, okay Eds? Bev’s getting the car, we’re going to the hospital in a second, okay?” 

It’s ridiculous the way he keeps asking Eddie for assurance, but the mindless babbling is the only thing holding him together. Distantly, he’s aware of Stan kneeling at his side, holding tight to Richie’s shoulder. 

“They’ll drug you up with some good pain meds soon, okay, and— look here comes Bev, we’re gonna get up in a second, alright?”  
  
“Rich… I never… I didn’t tell you... “ Eddie stammers. He inhales, a rattly weak thing that chokes Richie. 

“You can tell me later, okay Eds? Don’t talk right now. Just concentrate on breathing.” 

Eddie’s eyes roll back, and he loses consciousness just as Bev rushes over to help get him in the car. Richie isn’t aware of much after that, too hysterical to bother with things like impulse control, and he sobs with Eddie’s head cradled in his lap the entire way to the hospital. 

**Autumn 2016**

The opening notes of “September” by Earth, Wind, & Fire play from Richie’s iphone as he dances his way into Eddie’s hospital room. 

“Do you _remembahhh_ ,” he sings, ignoring Eddie’s unimpressed stare. “The twenty-first night, of _Septembahhh—_ ”  
  
“Richie.” 

“ _Ba de ya, say do you remember—”_

“Richie, for fuck’s sake, this is a hospital—”

“I’m aware it’s a hospital, thank you very much Spaghetti—”  
  
“People are fucking dying, have some respect—”  
  
“I’m just trying to set the mood! It’s the big day, September 21st at last! As if I’m _not_ gonna bring Earth, Wind & Fire into this.” 

Eddie shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his face dramatically. “I should have restricted your visiting privileges when I had the chance.” 

Richie grins, lowering the volume and perching on Eddie’s bed. This spot has become so familiar he’s pretty sure the imprint of his asscheek will forever be embedded in the mattress. He gives Eddie a onceover, marveling again at the lack of tubes and wires attached to him. Eddie had strongly objected when Richie had called the other Losers to announce that Eddie was now wireless earlier that week, but it hasn’t stopped him from grinning like an idiot and asking what his wifi password is everyday since. 

“You really didn’t have to wait this long, Richie,” Eddie says again. “I’d have been okay, you know.”  
  
Richie shrugs. “Well it’s not like ex-Mrs. Kaspbrak was offering to come change your bandages.”  
  
Eddie looks down sheepishly. “Uh, she did, actually. But it was just a way for her to try and drag me back, and make me dependent on her again.”  
  
“Well there you go. That’s what I’m here for. Fighting off the ex and changing bandages.”  
  
Eddie’s mouth twists. “Have you actually been paying attention when Mary does it? Because I can change my own. If you don’t know the right technique, it’ll fuck it all up and it could get infected—”  
  
“Relax, Eddie baby, I got this. You just wrap clockwise around the chest—”  
  
“ _Counter-clockwise,_ Richie— _”_

“I _know_ , Eds, I’m fucking with you,” Richie says with a smile. Eddie frowns and looks at his hands, idly tracing the tape holding his IV in place. 

“Thank you, Rich,” Eddie says solemnly. “I— this would have sucked so much more without you here.” 

Richie swallows the obvious answer, “As if I could be anywhere else,” and just nods. Eddie’s been here for a month and a half, endured several surgeries and close calls and a shitload of physical therapy, and Richie has been at his side for every moment of it. The others left a few weeks ago once Eddie was finally stable and yelling at them to get back to their lives and stop worrying about him, but Richie couldn’t leave. As soon as he was coherent enough, Bill had asked as tactfully as he could if Eddie wanted them to contact his wife. His answer had been a resounding, “fuck, no.” Apparently he’d called and asked her for a divorce their first night in Derry and had just forgotten to mention it before getting skewered by a space clown. Richie has tried to not to obsess over it. 

“That’s what husbands are for,” Richie says with a smile, because he’s also trying not to obsess over their stupid childhood pact that suddenly feels much more relevant with Eddie newly single, and his chosen coping mechanism is to joke endlessly about it until it’s not as big as he’s made it out to be in his head.

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters just as his doctor knocks and strides in. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kaspbrak,” she says cheerily, nodding in appreciation at the music still playing from Richie’s phone. “Nice touch.”  
  
“See? Someone appreciates my efforts,” Richie says smugly. 

“Yeah, she doesn’t have to go home with you though,” Eddie retorts.

It’s maddening how that one stupid comment can make his heart rate triple. 

“Alright, big day Eddie,” Dr. Sanders continues. She smiles and steps over to read Eddie’s monitors. “Everything here looks good, I’m going to do one last exam and then you’ll be out of here.” 

Richie steps aside to let her work, and tries to decide if an edible arrangement is sufficient enough thanks for saving Eddie’s life. She’s become one of Richie’s favorite people in the entire world over the past forty or fifty days; he’s just about to ask if she needs any spare kidneys as a measure of his gratitude when she straightens and finishes wrapping Eddie’s gauze. 

“Looks great. I’m thrilled with your progress Eddie, but take it slow for awhile, okay? No heavy lifting for at least eight weeks, and remember to keep up your breathing exercises to build up your strength. Your lungs took a heavy toll, I don’t need to remind you.”  
  
“Got it doc,” Richie answers for him while Eddie nods seriously.   
  
Dr. Sanders turns her attention to Richie. “And for the hubby. Change his bandages every other day. Be sure to use the antibiotic ointment generously, call me if anything looks off. He already knows what to look for for infection. If his breathing starts to sound rattly again, call me and get him to a hospital for an x-ray. Got it?” 

“Yep,” Richie croaks, doing his best to ignore Eddie scowling at him over his shoulder. 

“Great. I’ll have my nurse put all that in writing with his discharge papers. Any questions?”

“Uh, would it be weird for me to give you a hug?” Richie asks. 

She smiles warmly and opens her arms. Richie hugs her tight, whispering a stream of thank yous in her ear. She pats his back and nods, and touches his cheek briefly when she pulls back. 

“You’re a good husband,” she says quietly. Richie swallows hard, fighting the tears springing to his eyes. “He’s in good hands.” 

She turns to Eddie while Richie collects himself and shakes his hand. Richie tunes them out, too focused on the losing battle with his emotions. Dr. Sanders leaves a minute later, and they wait for her nurse to come in and remove Eddie’s IV and officially discharge him. 

“So,” Eddie starts, and Richie immediately tenses at his tone. “She thinks you’re my husband?” 

“Um… does she? I don’t— I don’t know, that’s weird,” Richie says. Eddie glares; it doesn’t take long for Richie to break. “Okay, it was just… it was a technicality, okay? And it was Ben’s idea, so, so take it up with him, man. They needed a name for your forms, and you’d already told us not to call your wife, and— I wasn’t even _there_ , dude, they just put my name down, and next thing I know the doc is asking for Eddie Kaspbrak’s husband to give an update, it’s not—”  
  
“Richie, calm down,” Eddie says, dimple appearing in his scarred cheek. “It’s fine, I get it. I just thought you were calling yourself that as a joke.” 

“Childhood pacts aren’t a joke, Eduardo,” Richie says quietly. It’s the closest to an opening he’s going to get. 

Eddie’s face softens. “Richie—”

“Good morning!” a bright voice greets. 

Eddie’s day nurse interrupts whatever Eddie was going to say, greeting them both with a smile. Richie barely hears anything she says while working on Eddie’s discharge paperwork. Eddie keeps shooting furtive little glances at Richie that leave him feeling exposed. By the time they’re wheeling Eddie out, Richie has come up with about fifty different diversionary tactics to keep Eddie from ever mentioning it again. 

* * *

They drive to a town just outside of Derry where Richie has sublet an apartment. It’s the perfect amount of distance, far enough away from Derry to keep them from losing their minds while still being close enough to his doctor should he need anything as he wraps up his recovery. It’s on the first floor, because stairs are still an unnecessary challenge, and it’s modestly furnished, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. 

Richie helps Eddie inside, gets him situated on the couch, and then it’s just the two of them and the TV that only gets basic cable. They’ve just settled on Wheel of Fortune when Eddie breaks their unspoken agreement and brings it up. 

“Richie. Why didn’t you ever get married?” Eddie asks during a commercial break. 

Richie chokes on the water he’d just taken a sip of. Eddie pounds on his back while he coughs it out. 

“Kind of a loaded question, Eds,” Richie gasps. 

“I just mean… surely there was someone you wanted to—?” Eddie asks, fiddling with the threads of his t-shirt. 

“Not really,” Richie says. “I was closeted my whole life, and like super fucking ashamed. That doesn’t lead to a lot of meaningful relationships, mostly random hookups and friends with benefits kinda situations.” 

Eddie nods to himself while Richie concentrates on keeping his breathing regular. He’d come out to all of the Losers while Eddie was in the hospital, so this isn’t news to Eddie, but it still feels weird to say it out loud after keeping it buried for so long. 

“I meant it you know,” Eddie says quietly. He’s blushing furiously, and Richie takes a long moment to appreciate that after a month of Eddie looking like a fucking corpse. “Our— our deal. I know we were just kids, but I was serious.” 

Richie stares, feeling a lot like a horse just kicked him in the head. 

“You were?” he manages eventually. Eddie’s expression changes, melting smoothly from shy into something determined. 

“Yeah.” 

Eddie sits up, wincing a little so he can scoot closer to Richie. Richie reaches out but Eddie slaps his hands away, and pushes himself up on his knees so that he’s level with Richie and fixing him with the same steely look. His bony knees are digging into Richie’s thigh, but there’s no way he’s complaining about that right now. 

“I kind of liked it, you know. You calling yourself my husband,” Eddie hums, eyes fixed steadily on Richie’s. 

“You did?” Richie says dopily, eyes flicking to Eddie’s lips of their own accord. Eddie is already looking at his when he looks back up. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again. He cuts his eyes back up to Richie. “You gonna just keep asking dumb questions?”  
  
“Depends on if you’re gonna keep saying shit that makes me stupid.” 

“You don’t need my help for that,” Eddie murmurs, and then he’s leaning in, soft lips pressing against Richie’s. 

Richie makes a soft noise and his brain finally kicks into gear. He turns, angling his head, and then Eddie’s _really_ kissing him and he’s sure he’s dead, or dreaming. There’s no other explanation for how good it is, even with the weird angle and the way Richie is afraid to touch him the way he wants. 

When Eddie pulls back it’s only so he can painstakingly climb into Richie’s lap. Richie carefully touches Eddie’s sides, then cups his face instead when Eddie jerks and hisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” Richie says. 

“Don’t apologize, just kiss me asshole,” Eddie says, and so Richie does. 

They kiss for what feels like hours, slow and unhurried, heat building between them and making Richie’s blood rush swiftly south. Eddie breaks the kiss eventually and leans his forehead against Richie’s, breathing hard. 

“This can’t be Dr. Sanders approved activity,” Richie says, panting as well. 

“I don’t care,” Eddie says, leaning in and pressing another searing kiss to Richie’s lips to prove his point. “Dr. Sanders hasn’t been waiting to kiss you since she was thirteen.”  
  
The ground seems to shift; if he weren’t already sitting Richie would be on his ass after that. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me? All that time we could have been making out when you _didn’t_ have a punctured lung, and you choose now to do it?” 

“Fuck off, at least I had the balls to do it,” Eddie snaps, and it just makes Richie love him more. “All you did was call me your fake husband for a month and a half.” 

“Well, that can be easily fixed, Eddie baby. I’ll go to the courthouse and officially make you Mr. Edward Tozier tomorrow, if you want.”  
  
Eddie scoffs. “As if I’m taking your name. If anything we’re hyphenating.”  
  
Richie blinks. “Eds, are you— do you mean—?”  
  
“God, I really have to do everything,” Eddie snaps, cutting off Richie’s choked sob with another kiss. 

**Summer 2017**

  
  


“Bev— _Beverly_! Where the fuck did he go?” 

Bev turns around from where she’d been speaking to Richie’s parents and rolls her eyes. “Oh no. My maid of honor duties were done the second you said ‘I do’, I don’t have to keep track of him for you anymore.” 

“What’s the matter, Eddie?” Richie’s mom asks, eyebrows knit together the same way Richie’s do when he’s anxious. 

Eddie frowns, looking around wildly. “Your son. I can’t find him, and the DJ is about to announce our first dance. Married for fifteen fucking minutes and I already have to kill him, goddammit. Where’s Stan, I bet he’s involved in this somehow—”  
  
“Breathe, Eddie,” Bev instructs, hands on his shoulders. “He’s probably just in the bathroom.” 

“Nope, I checked. He _knows_ how I feel about this, and he fucking abandoned me, I’m going to—”  
  
“Hey!” Richie’s voice comes from behind him. Eddie whips around, hand pointing an accusatory finger in Richie’s face before he’s even cognizant of it. 

“Where have you _been?_ ” Eddie snarls. Richie just smiles, looking stupid handsome in his tux, and Eddie feels some of his anger drain away. 

“I was just working some things out, don’t worry. Come on, they’re gonna announce us any second.” 

“Working what out— Richie, _working what out_?” 

Richie grabs the hand that’s still pointed at him and leads him away with a wink over his shoulder at Bev and his mother. Eddie berates him the entire time he’s dragged over to the backdoor where they’ll make their entrance in a few minutes. 

“—you _know_ I didn’t want any surprises, Richie, weddings are embarrassing enough without whatever shit you’re planning—”  
  
They reach the door, and Richie drops his hand to turn around and face him. “Take a breathe, baby,” Richie says, hands on Eddie’s face. “Don’t make me call Dr. Sanders.” 

“She’s _here,_ dumbass. Empty threat.” 

“Eds, I would never do anything to embarrass you, come on.”  
  
Eddie wrenches his face out of Richie’s grip. “You absolutely would, you shit—”  
  
“May I have your attention please,” a voice booms from inside the venue. Richie grins wolfishly and offers his arm, which Eddie takes with a half hearted scowl. “Please give it up for Mr. and Mr. Tozier-Kaspbrak!”  
  
“You actually made him say Mr. and Mr.?” Eddie says through gritted teeth just as the doors open and Richie begins to lead him out. 

“Of course I did. Please, Eddie, act like you know me at least a little.” 

They wave to their friends and family congregated around the dance floor, clapping and whistling for them. Eddie manages a smile when he sees the Losers near the front, whooping the loudest, and relaxes a little when Richie turns him around so they’re face to face. 

“Come on, Eddie my love. Just like middle school,” Richie says quietly as the opening notes of ‘Time After Time’ play in the reception hall. Richie holds his arms out, and the crowd around them cheers. 

Eddie steps closer. He draws the line at middle school slow dancing. Instead, he takes Richie’s left hand and puts the other on his shoulder, and presses close. The crowd quiets, Richie starts to lead them around, and after the first chorus Eddie gives in and rests his head on Richie’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Richie says quietly, pressing his lips to his hair. 

“Hey,” Eddie answers just as softly. “Still can’t believe I let you pick this fucking song.” 

“Thirteen year old Richie says thank you,” Richie says dreamily. “You’re kind of blowing his mind right now.” 

“Thirteen year old Eddie says you’re welcome, but we still should’ve gone with ‘Friday I’m in Love’.”  
  
“It just doesn’t have the same vibe, Eds,” Richie argues. “And the night is still young.” 

Eddie snickers and doesn’t protest when Richie twirls him around under his arm twice before pulling him in close again. They’re quiet for the second chorus, and then Richie stiffens a little. 

“Don’t be mad, okay?”  
  
“Don’t— what?” 

His question is answered a moment later, when ‘Time After Time’ is cut short, and fucking ‘September’ starts blaring. Richie twirls away dramatically while still holding onto Eddie’s hand, beaming at Eddie over his shoulder.

“Richie, I swear—”  
  
“ _Do you remember,_ ” Richie sings, loud and offkey, grin splitting his face, and Eddie can’t help but smile back. “ _The twenty-first night of September!”_

Eddie is vaguely aware of the cheers from their friends, but all he really sees is Richie when he pulls him back to him and dips him low. Eddie pulls him down by the neck for a kiss, and the cheers get exponentially louder around them. Richie is smiling against his mouth when he straightens them back up, and looks at Eddie with his favorite soft expression. 

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, thumb brushing Richie’s cheek. 

“I love you more, Eddie Spaghetti Tozier-Kaspbrak,” Richie says, and kisses him again. 

Richie gestures for everyone else to join them on the dancefloor after breaking the kiss, and Eddie finds himself being pulled into Bill’s arms next, who dances with him wildly with Mike, Stan and Ben on their right, Richie and Bev to their left. He takes a deep breath with his healed lungs and dances hard all night, surrounded by the people he loves most in the world, forever grateful for the sanctity of childhood pacts.

**Author's Note:**

> one day i'll learn how to end a fic, i swear. 
> 
> oof ik this trope has been done a thousand times, but sometimes you just gotta. this was all over the place, but like i really have a lot of other wips that need attention and so this was just thrown together until it would get out of my brain and fulfill my need to write some sappy wedding shit <3
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://hyruling.tumblr.com/) where i am STILL crying over the clown movie :)


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